


Taking the Air

by glitterburn (orphan_account)



Series: the sun will fade [3]
Category: Otogizoushi
Genre: Community: rarepair100, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-29
Updated: 2011-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-15 05:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/glitterburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I beg you, Lord Seimei. If you can change things, if you can alter fate... restore the balance that’s been lost. Bring the world back into harmony.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking the Air

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt 'air' at the rarepair100 comm.

“You will be more comfortable outside,” Mansairaku says, hidden behind Seimei’s mask. Seimei’s long white hair falls forward as he stretches out a hand to Raikou. “Come. Lean on me. The air will be beneficial.”

Raikou gives a short, hacking laugh as he throws back the quilt. “My father agrees that fresh air is good, but he worries about miasmas from outside the garden—spirits and pollution that may find their way into our estate and take advantage of my illness to attack me.”

Mansairaku smiles, though of course Raikou cannot see it. “Commander Mitsunaka is a prudent man.”

“Then you believe there are evil forces wishing me harm?” Raikou grasps Mansairaku’s hand and hauls himself out of his sickbed. He stands, testing his legs, holding onto Mansairaku. Raikou’s body may be delicate from the long illness, but his grip is still fierce, the strong handclasp of a warrior.

“They do not wish you harm—not you specifically. At least not that I can sense.” Attentive to his patient’s needs, Mansairaku tucks Raikou’s hand through his arm, lending support when the young man leans against him. “What I feel instead are the spirits of the discontent and the restless. They are without purpose, drifting in the shadow world. Sometimes they favour humans. Most of the time they cause harm. With these spirits, much depends on opportunity.”

They emerge onto the veranda and walk a short distance. “So one of these spirits might choose to enter the garden and cure me?” Raikou asks.

“Yes. But before you ask me to lift the magical wards I’ve placed around the estate, consider that it is much easier to harm someone than it is to help them.”

Raikou huffs. “That’s a very cynical thing to say, Lord Seimei.”

“Unfortunately it is the truth.”

“For spirits, perhaps...”

“For all creatures,” Mansairaku insists gently, “be they human, animal, or spirit.”

Silence drops between them. They admire the garden. As Seimei, Mansairaku has visited more gardens than he cares to recall. Most follow the same pattern—cherry tree, plum tree, orange tree, pine tree, a stream, flowerbeds. The garden of Minamoto no Mitsunaka conforms exactly, except the scent of the flowers is sweeter here, the colours more vivid.

Matsumushi crouches beneath the pine tree. Her robes are dark, green and brown and black. Unless one was looking for her, she would be invisible. Her eyes are fixed on him, waiting. Mansairaku nods, and with a movement like the breeze through the treetops, she withdraws into the northern hall.

Raikou doesn’t notice. He stares at the high brushwood fence dividing the garden from Yamamomo Road. “Beyond the prison of these walls, all manner of ills await. All manner of pleasures, too, and disappointments, and... Well. All manner of experiences.”

“You should think of it not as a prison but as a refuge.”

“Easy for you to say. You can walk out of here whenever you like.”

Mansairaku dips his head. “That would be unforgivably rude.”

Raikou laughs. He looks at Mansairaku, gaze narrowing as he tries to see beyond the mask. “I get the impression that you wouldn’t much care if someone accused you of being unforgivably rude.”

Mansairaku smiles into the darkness. “It would depend on who accused me.”

“And if it was me?”

“Then I would regret having let you down so shamefully, and I would attempt to make amends the next time we met.”

Amusement lingers on Raikou’s face, tempered now by surprise. “You would give my remarks weight above those of the Grand Counsellor and the Ministers of the Left and the Right? Surely not!”

“Surely.”

The word brings astonishment. Raikou gazes at him. “I—I... Lord Seimei, we have met only once before today. Why do you regard me so highly?”

“I could tell you that it’s because I cast your horoscope and divined certain portents connected to you.” Mansairaku steps down from the walkway into the garden. He offers a hand to help Raikou, but his patient needs no assistance this time. “I could tell you that your father rewards me handsomely to pay close attention to you. I could tell you that the Emperor requested daily news of your condition and enjoined me to do my best to help you. Or I could tell you the truth.”

Raikou gives him a sidelong look. “Which is?”

“That I like you.” The admission silences them both. Mansairaku is surprised by it, then realises it’s true. “I don’t like many people,” he continues, tone soft, finding his way deeper into the truth. “I feel... an affinity with you. Your opinion matters to me.”

“I am an invalid.”

“Your opinion is still worthwhile.”

Mansairaku knows he cannot cure the disease eating away at Raikou. The sickness is of a kind beyond his abilities, one sent by Heaven. To interfere with its course would be to risk the wrath of deities far greater than him, yet Mansairaku knows he will try to nullify the effects of the disease. He cannot turn back the tide, but he can lessen the power of the waves and divert the water into more peaceful channels.

His decision comes fully formed. He hasn’t given it any thought until this moment, but now he knows it’s the right thing to do. He has the time and the ability. Ever since he came into existence in this world, he’s been waiting for a chance to do something—something more than consulting the I Ching or calculating unlucky directions or compiling star charts. He took on the guise of an elderly Seimei because instinct bid him do so, but never before did he have a reason for his actions.

Now he does. As much as he is able, he will save Raikou. He will keep the young man safe from the harm intended by malevolent forces.

Raikou walks across the grass, touching the flowers; he kneels to pass his hands through the cool trickle of the stream. The shadows are short, the sun almost directly overhead. Soon it will be too hot to stand here. The fragrance of a hundred flowers hangs heavy in the air.

Still crouched by the stream, Raikou looks up at the cherry tree, laden with sweet blossoms. “The cherry has flowered every day since spring. Almost three months! It seems like a miracle.” He stands, fingers dripping water, and fixes his gaze on Mansairaku. “My father takes it as a sign.”

“Unseasonal flowering is a sign only of imbalance in nature.” Mansairaku joins him. They step over the stream and continue their walk. “The world is in a continual state of flux. Where there is too much yang today, there will be an over-abundance of yin tomorrow. It is my duty to bring balance.”

“The duties of all members of the Bureau of Divination,” Raikou says.

“No.” Mansairaku hesitates. “Mine alone.”

Raikou gives him a startled look. “A heavy burden for one man.”

“It is not so bad. Every living creature helps or hinders in some way. It’s only if the balance tips too far in one direction that I need to intervene.”

“But—” Raikou breaks off, turning his head. His face has gone pale. He coughs, trying to keep it in, trying to force it back, but it’s too strong for him. A slight spray of blood rains onto his white under-robe. Raikou stares down at it but makes no comment.

A surge of anger rises in Mansairaku—anger that yesterday’s cure has been so quickly overcome, anger at his own limitations, anger at the frailty of human life. Striving for calm, he says, “I believe your illness is caused by the current imbalance of the world.”

The coughing fit is over. Raikou wipes his mouth on his hand. “What?”

“The lawlessness on the streets of the capital—violent gangs taking up residence in shrines and gatehouses. The nights of looting and rape and murder. Evil spreading from the western half of the city to infect the east. People fleeing to the countryside, only to meet refugees from the provinces.” Mansairaku draws a shuddering breath, seeing the ruin of this world clearly in his mind’s eye. “The land is dying, and no one cares. The people, the ordinary people, are crying out for help, but no one listens. The court, the Bureau of Divination, the Emperor—”

Raikou comes close and places his fingers over the mouth of the mask. He’s wide-eyed, shocked, looking around. “Hush. You mustn’t say those things. You mustn’t.”

“I must.” Mansairaku steps back. “I do not fear censure.”

“It’s not that. You mustn’t say those things because you’re wrong.” Raikou clenches his fists, his expression determined, back straight as he stands tall. “People do care. They do listen. Maybe the senior courtiers are oblivious, but those of us of samurai class are aware of the troubles both inside and outside the capital. My father is Governor of Settsu and Commander in Chief of the Northern Defences. Do you think he is ignorant of the misery of his people? He knows. He _knows_ , Lord Seimei.”

Mansairaku exhales, humbled. He bows. “My apologies. I meant no insult.”

“None taken.” Raikou waves away the comment. “Before this illness struck, I was an expert archer. I used to accompany Father on his journeys into the provinces. I fought—not in battles, but in skirmishes with bandits. I and my father’s retainers cleared the highways of robbers and punished those who harmed the innocent. But now sickness robs me of the chance to fulfil my duty. Every day I live with the knowledge that hundreds of helpless people are suffering—and I, who should be the one to help them, can’t do anything!”

They stare at one another in silence for a long moment, and then Raikou sinks to his knees. “I beg you, Lord Seimei. If you can change things, if you can alter fate... restore the balance that’s been lost. Bring the world back into harmony.”

“You don’t want me to save you?”

A smile as brilliant as the sun lights Raikou’s eyes, warms his pale face. “I want you to save the world.”

Leaning forward, Mansairaku brushes aside a stray coil of Raikou’s long, shining hair. “Raikou... you are a truly noble man.”

“Will you do it?” Raikou asks.

Mansairaku nods. “I will try.”


End file.
